So I came to a profound realization the other day that will not sound at all like a profound realization. In fact, I'm fully aware that it'll sound ridiculous and people will probably look at me like I'm crazy if I ever say it out loud. But that's what blogs are for! Ha.
So what is this profound realization, you ask? I'll tell you...
Breathing is essential.
(I'm sensing blank stares.) I'll explain the thought process here, and maybe it'll make more sense. Or any sense.
I've started working out. I know. Shocking. Those who know me actually respond with an incredulous "Really?" when I tell them. But it's true. And I feel so much better now that I've carved out that time for it and am sticking to a schedule. But I digress. Anyway, so I'm running the other day and I feel like I'm going to die any second if I don't stop. But I don't stop. Because when it starts to hurt is when it starts to work.
I just changed my breathing pattern. Problem (almost) solved! My asthma still kicked my ass, but I didn't quit on myself (you're allowed to clap. ha).
So, as I got home and stood, sweaty and gross, guzzling water and feeling close to passing out in my kitchen, I realized that breathing is vital to everything. And I don't mean just the in-out-in-out kind of breathing. Obviously, humans need oxygen to survive. This isn't a biology lesson.
What I mean is that breathing is what we're always, always told to do. No matter what. If you're stressed out, take a deep breath. If you're angry, take a deep breath. If you're tired, take a deep breath and stretch. In pain? Breathe it out. In labour (this I know now, since my best friend gave me a detailed account of her 23 hr labour...thanks for that, by the way)? Breathe.
Music is all about finding the right spaces for breaths. Sometimes literally, sometimes not. Talk to any brass or woodwind player, and they'll tell you it's all about taking your breaths at the right time. The best music - sonically, musically, lyrically speaking - leaves room for breath.
(For an example of what I mean, see Lover, You Should've Come Over or Slow Dancing in a Burning Room. Also, there's a song called Laying Here With You by a little-known Canadian country singer, Thomas Wade, that is one of my all time fave songs. It's a wonderful example.)
What I've come to discover is that writing has a lot to do with breathing, too. Not only in the literal sense, when I'm sitting in front of a blank page, the cursor blinking back at me, and I can feel the stories and words swirling around in my head. I always take a big breath before I start typing. I don't know why this is. Probably has something to do with a clean slate, fresh start.
But I also mean this as far as the rhythm and flow of any given sentence or paragraph. I'm not afraid to admit that as I'm writing, I read a lot of my stuff out loud to myself. It gives me an idea of whether I've made the right word choice, or if there are any grammatical errors, which was why I started doing it in the first place. But now it's more than that. It's myself getting into a groove of writing. Sometimes I'll write an entire paragraph that's just one sentence and a lot of commas, but it just flows so well that I don't change it. I learn to take breaths between certain words, and that can change any sentence.
I don't know if people read what I write the same way that I read it. It's kind of cool if they don't, I think. (This comes down to individuality, which is probably the most interesting and amazing things about human beings; I can hear one thing one way and someone else can see it another. Never fails to make me smile, that thought.)
Probably the best example of what I'm talking about (in reference to my own stuff) is Baby, It's a Fine Line. By no means did I stick to any proper sentence structure, and any expert in the English language would absolutely tear it apart, but it's probably my favourite thing I've written. All because it's got a feel to it, a mood, and there's room for breaths in interesting places, and tempo changes and full stops. Maybe I'm crazy, but I'd love to read that piece out loud to someone who I know will appreciate all that. Maybe someday.
I guess what I'm saying is that breathing is something that is so vital to everything we do - literally, metaphorically, spiritually, figuratively - and most of us never pay it any mind.
We should probably do that a little more.
